Origin Story
by aptasi
Summary: The origin of loyalty is often arbitrary
1. Chapter 1

Summary: The origin of loyalty is often arbitrary.

Disclaimer: I'm just a fanfiction writer. All hail the rightful owners.

Content Disclaimer: This work of fiction contains murder of a canon character; references to childhood abuse, hunger, and homelessness; and some mild cussing. Furthermore, canon characters are written in a morally ambiguous way. Finally, I've taken some liberties with the canon time line and character biographies. I warned you.

* * *

"I'm still not sure why you'd want this, Boss." I mutter, as I hand Carmen the vile. I'm in a sulky mood, but then again it's Monday morning and I haven't slept more than six hours all weekend. Sulkiness is my prerogative, and I'm not about to give it up. Even for the famed Carmen Sandiego.

"Don't worry about that." My superior responds. "Now understand that I do not doubt you, but I need to check. You're sure the synthesis was successful?"

"I'm sure." I retort. "I even tested it on some mice. It had the effect you predicted."

"Good initiative." She answers, but I can't read her face.

"Thanks, but there are some side-effects you should know about." I add, and my heart is thumping out of my chest. Why did Carmen pick me for this anyhow? Who hands a lowly lab tech a rough draft of a world-class synthesis scribbled on crumpled yellow notebook paper and tells them to sneak into the lab over the weekends and run it? It's like smuggling a second grader into Sidney Opera House to play Mozart. Before Carmen handed me off to Sara Bellum, I'd never run a reaction in my life. Carmen's blunt expectant glance forces a nervous swallow out of me. I have some decent confidence about me, but I know my limits. I'm next to useless as a synthetic chemist and dislike being dragged into some conflict that could probably tear me to shreds… especially given that my boss seems disinclined to explain any of it. She could throw me a clue.

"For one thing it only works if administered in advance." I expound. "The toxin works too fast compared to the antidote absorbance."

"How far ahead?" Carmen asks simply.

"Half an hour in the mice. I would give it longer for something larger. You can check the tolerance curves."

Bright lively eyes answer with a knowing sparkle. She may be fine with this information, but I don't get it. What possible use can one have for a remedy that only works if taken ahead? Why not simply avoid swallowing the damn stuff in the first place?

"It uh.." I try to articulate. "It's also very painful."

Carmen raises her eyebrows and there's something rather jaunty there… but vaguely sarcastic. "Is that so?"

"Yeah…" I mutter, shifting my feet. "I uh… the mice were in agony. And I wanted to make sure it wasn't the toxin so I ran a trial without it and it was still the same."

"But it didn't kill them?" Carmen clarified.

Now I've never been one of those overemotional sops who has a heart attack every time Carmen gets a paper cut. Her self-destructive impulses are not my problem. Making sure she has all of the information is, however. So, I tried to interject. "Well no but…"

"Then it's fine." She interrupts.

OK then, I should suppose she's going to use this on someone who she doesn't give a damn about. My first guess, given that parameter, would be that she's going to take the medicine herself. Anyone with enough brains to survive in VILE knows there's only one person Carmen likes to torture. Carmen puts her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow in a way that I never would have put up with back when I was independent. Then again, when I had my freedom I was also starving, and I've no inclination to live that hell again. A lot of pride drowns when someone offers you a warm blanket and a bowl of hearty soup in February.

Fine, she can be insolent all she likes as long as she keeps feeding me. Three meals a day and a place to sleep are nothing to sneeze at, especially with my background, and Carmen pays a whole lot better than that. If that makes me a kept lackey, so be it. I know Carmen's capable of following the science. In fact, I'm on the certain side of sure that synthesis was in her penmanship. So, I hand her my notes.

Trying not to look sullen, I watch my clever boss flipping through my reports, managing not to comment on my horrendous handwriting. I do detest apologizing. "I see you did a few extra runs." She remarks. "And added some tests."

I did something she didn't instruct me to do and I'm probably in trouble. Go figure. "Yes boss…" I mutter. "It was interesting."

The corners of Carmen's eyes scrunch as she smiles, and I can tell for a moment that she thinks it's cool too. I get a notion that maybe she was just trying to see if the synthesis would work. That would not be the first time the boss tried something just for a challenge. At any rate, Carmen looks at me kind of funny. I cannot help feeling as if I have given something away with that statement. Not that I have anything to hide, I remind myself. Carmen knows where she found me and can quite easily infer the rest. There isn't much else to me…

"Did Sara realize what you were doing?" Carmen demands. Her voice is suddenly cool.

"No." I deadpan. Dr Bellum hasn't even been over to my little corner in almost a month. I am beneath her notice. I ought to be beneath Carmen's too For some reason she is using me as a scientist instead of a mobile test tube washing system. That's foolish, but hey, she's the boss.

"Now…" Carmen says, taking my chin invasively in her hand and forcing her to look at her. "Are you sure your report is complete?"

I shiver because she suddenly looks really frightening to me. "Yes."

"Are you Sara's creature…" the voice of icy disdain demands, "or mine?"

There are layers of emotion in that question that go far beyond my pay grade. "Yours."

"Why…" she asks and there is a new flavor of self-depreciating pragmatism present. Carmen is most dangerous when in this kind of mood. I know that. Anyone with half a brain would.

"Because I'm counting on you to make sure Sara doesn't wake up one morning and decide to run an experiment that will kill me."

"That all?" Carmen asks.

I've never understood how people in this organization end up so loyal to Carmen. Our master is a changeable and possibly deranged kleptomaniac, who in all likelihood cares more about people who want to lock her away to rot than she does about those of us who'd prefer she remain loose. I could comprehend being afraid of her or wanting to stay on her good side. I read her moods all the time. It's conducive to me staying alive and out of the slammer. I even know how people get very worked up about her strict material safety. It doesn't benefit any of us for her to die. The devil you know and all that…

But you can't get tangled up in Carmen's emotions. That's a web not even she knows how to get out of. I have to keep my wits about me, and caring about someone who doesn't even notice me is… inexpedient. Carmen has my material loyalty. I'll never serve myself so poorly as to work against her. And I work hard. Boss isn't the only one who has standards. I do everything I'm supposed to and then some.

"You're a force of nature." I answer quietly. "It's better to fear than to love."

Carmen looks at me for a long time. "Well I'll say this for you." She remarks. "If you've falsified any of this, I can't find it."

"I wouldn't make up data." I snap.

My boss's lips curl in a not entirely friendly way. "I'll find out soon enough" She hands me a card. "Get some rest and I'll see you tonight.""

It is thoughtful of her to let me sleep, but the invitation puzzles me. "Why would you want me at your dinner party?"

"To see what you've wrought." Carmen explains with a platinum gaze. "One way or the other."


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: The origin of loyalty is often arbitrary.

Disclaimer: I'm just a fanfiction writer. All hail the rightful owners.

Content Disclaimer: This work of fiction contains murder of a canon character; references to childhood abuse, hunger, and homelessness; and some mild cussing. Furthermore, canon characters are written in a morally ambiguous way. Finally, I've taken some liberties with the canon time line and character biographies. I warned you.

* * *

They serve Carmen her food first, and she immediately begins to eat.

Since Dr Bellum and Mason are seated at my table, I keep my head down and try to avoid notice. However, after a few minutes, they start whispering. I hear bits and pieces.

"Anything?"

"Nothing…"

"Don't get it…"

"Quiet you numskull."

"Are you sure you?"

"I'm telling you she's had enough to…"

Right around that time, it occurs to me that _everyone_ is whispering and shooting glances at Carmen. A second or two thereafter, I infer that I'm in _way_ over my head. Well, I think I know where she used the antidote. OK lady. You've made your point. We get it. You're invincible. You're eating neurotoxin like it's five star cuisine, and you haven't even blinked. Sara and Mason and apparently the rest of your minions have got the shock of their lives. Any other plans to murder you are probably jettisoned as of right now. You always did know how to drive a point home boss. Now hurry up and call this bluff before someone gets hurt.

Suddenly, Mason stands up, and the room falls silent. Carmen looks mildly at him, as though bored. My mind works as fast as it can, but all I can seem to do is mentally mutter expletives at myself, Mason, and anyone else stupid enough to touch the food in this place.

Glaring furiously at Carmen, Mason grabs a forkful of stuff from her plate and swallows it. Two seconds later, he's turning purple. He's dead on the floor within a minute. Carmen takes another bite.

It's amazing how fast a room clears under these circumstances. I want to flee too, but my eves are riveted. She doesn't move. Instead, my boss merely stares, while time ticks by, at the discolored body in front of her. Periodically she blinks.

"Dr Bellum put him up to it." I tell her, and my words echo eerily in the deserted room. "You've known him for longer any other employee here." My voice gets louder, more belligerent. "You must have known that he wouldn't have tried that on his own."

Her eyes don't even move.

"Don't you have anything to say?" I demand, hands on my hips.

"I never liked him much…" Carmen mutters dully.

"Well…" For some reason that takes the wind out of my sails. "I don't suppose anyone really liked him all that much."

Really now, why is she stuck like that? Carmen pulls off heists so complicated it makes the Mafia look like boy scouts. One little corpse shouldn't dent her self assurance. So why does she look near tears?

"Sara's going to figure out I did something." I exclaim. "I can't stay in her lab."

Carmen's eyes look shiny, but I know she's not about to cry. I have a stupid urge to hug her, but I get hold of myself halfway through and give her a good shake instead. She inhales sharply.

"Would you snap out of it and deal with this!" I shout, half at myself. I can't believe how many precious seconds I've spent analyzing her mental state.

"There's an opening in the small crimes division." She finally remarks.

"That calls for a blond." I glower.

"Hardly insurmountable."

"I didn't mean dyed hair blond. I meant personality blond."

"I know what you meant." It's plain that her numb mind is still only half on the conversation.

My boss was referring to a position that mainly operated as a bubble-headed distraction. "That position calls for me to be a … pet."

"It's a plum job." Carmen remarked. "Is that such a problem?"

"Yeah it kind of is." I growl. "In my experience, for every pampered poodle sitting in someone's lap, there's a mutt out back on a rusty chain, covered in bloody mange."

Carmen scrunches her eyebrows in concentration, and I feel inexplicably proud of myself. At least she's not staring at that half-wit man anymore. My boss is looking at me for the for the first time as though she's noticed something that interests her.

"Your speech," she infers, "indicates education. You were far more adept at that science than I expected."

"I have a past."

"I was told you were a street child."

"You were told correctly. I used to sleep in a library."

"That can't be all." She's too shrewd for that lie.

"There was a time when…" I don't want to talk about it. "It wasn't worth it."

She looks at me for a long moment. I've told her far too much, and I'm a little frightened of what she might do. For some foolish reason, I fear her pity most. I'm furious at myself for the irrational ranking. Sympathy never breaks skin.

"Do this for me." Carmen implores. "Change your surface persona. Pretend to be pampered and silly. Allow them to underestimate you, and, behind the scenes, I will teach you to run advanced heists."

"What do you mean?"

Anyone with sense knows to fear that smile. "There are ops Acme doesn't know about."

For one awestruck moment, I wonder if _anyone_ in VILE is what they seem. "Fine."

"Think it over…"

"Look Carmen." I get annoyed out of nowhere. Hypocrisy has that effect on me sometimes. "Anyone who works for you does it because they've got no other choice. You could ask me to pretend to be a dolphin, and I'd have to do it."

She glances back down at the heap of confederate uniform on the floor, and I mentally scold myself. I thought I'd gotten her off this self-destructive emotional binge. Not that I care. I don't… really.

"Nevertheless…" it's back to that hollow stare again. "I'd like you to agree."

I hate watching her do this to herself. It's not that it matters or anything. It doesn't. It's just no fun to watch is all. In my discomfort, I impulsively blurt something out. "If I let you take my shopping and dye my hair blond and all that jazz… do you promise not to do anything stupid?"

"That's a rather tall order." She remarks cynically.

It seems to me that both ends of this deal are tall orders. "Well then promise not to do anything stupid about him." I point to Mason. No long tortured existential heists, no hard drinking, and no whatever else you were going to do." I could be more specific there, but there's no need to give away everything in one fell swoop.

Her eyes widen. "How old are you, child?"

"I'm fourteen." I snap. "And I'm not a child."

"Fourteen…" she mutters and she sounds exhausted and sad. "Fine," She says suddenly. "I promise. I'll just go home and try to sleep. Is that acceptable?"

"No sleeping pills." I add shrewdly. "Tonight anyhow."

Carmen offers me her hand. "Deal."

"Deal. You've got yourself a ditz."

I don't understand. Why did I just drive this bargain and sell my personality for something I don't even want? How many times have I told myself that Carmen's reactions to things aren't my problem? How did I get drawn into this mire? In desperation, I revert to survival instincts. I get this feeling, and then I have to eat. It's as engrained as the heart rate speeding up. I can't help it.

"Is all of this poisoned?" I ask.

"What?"

"I… look I can't stand to see food wasted."

She raises her eyebrows.

"You don't know what it's like… to be starving."

Carmen shrugged. "I suppose I don't." She turns and makes to leave.

Part of my brain wonders what just happened and whether I'll even be able to recognize myself in a few days. However, this silly impulse to get up and help her is persisting.

My boss looks haggard, and her eyes keep darting to the corpse on the floor. I feel like I ought to tell her it wasn't her fault, but instead I spoon myself out heavy portions of each of the dishes. I can't turn my personality upside down in an evening. In fact I'm not even sure why I'm going to try.

"Oh and Patty?" Carmen turns around suddenly, and she looks so… human… that I would do just about anything.

"Yes?"

"By the way, don't touch the figs."

END

**A/N **My original challenge for myself was to write a fic using Carmen's last line in this chapter. If any of you recognized it, you are even more awesome than usual.


End file.
